Late Nights
by Randomwritergirl15
Summary: One late night leads to another for Eric, and not for the reasons he's ever expected.
1. Nightmare

**Author's Note: Another little story I came up with on the spot. Some more EricxAlan stuff :D These two seriously don't get enough love :/ Anyway, I'm thinking of adding a second chapter if you guys like this little one, so let me know, and enjoy :D**

Eric sat up faster than a person could blink, panting, eyes wide, sweat running down his face. His heart beat so violently in his chest that he thought at any minute it may burst free. Placing a calloused palm on his chest, right over where said muscle was located, he swallowed, shakily trying to regain his breath.

_Calm down, Eric,_ his brain told the rest of his body. Glancing over, Eric's vision was compromised by both the darkness, and his lack of glasses. The all-important tools of a Shinigami were only mandatory during work hours. Besides, it was incredibly uncomfortable to sleep with them on.

Even with his vision incredibly impaired, Eric could recognize that the figure next to him was beginning to stir. Glancing at the alarm clock, he squinted and somehow made out the numbers. It was Three twenty-seven in the morning.

"Hm, Eric?" Alan's voice was tired, somewhat scratchy from lack of use over the past few hours. "You okay?"

"'m fine," he lied, scratching the back of his head and acting like he hadn't just woken up in a panic. The smaller brunette looked at him in a daze, somehow not believing the words leaving his partner's lips. Reaching over to the bedside table, he retrieved his glasses, blinking when the world became much less blurry. It only took him a minute to look at Eric and see he wasn't fine.

"You're breathing heavy," he stated, seeing Eric's chest rise and fall in somewhat strangled breaths.

"Bad dream," he cracked as much of a grin as he could. "Nothin' to worry about."

In somewhat of stupor, Alan was confused by the notion that Eric had a bad dream. That was unusual. Still, it was early in the morning, and if he said it was fine, then it was probably nothing.

"Alright," he yawned, taking his glasses off once again and setting them on the table. "Let's just get back to sleep. We've got work in the morning." He chuckled. "And unlike some people, I plan on being on time."

Eric chuckled a bit, but his lungs were still trying to catch up with the rest of his body on the relaxing front. He watched as Alan slid down into the blankets again, completely comfortable, with his head resting on the soft pillow. He was completely asleep within five seconds.

_Well_, Eric's brain reasoned, _no use sitting up and thinking about it. Better get some more sleep._

And so Eric, too, settled himself back down and pulled the blankets up and to his shoulders. Shifting a bit, he stretched his arm to circle around Alan's back, drawing him closer. Being asleep, Alan had no knowledge that he was being nuzzled into the shirtless, well-muscled chest of his partner, but that didn't matter. He wouldn't have minded. All Eric wanted was to keep his partner close.

It was lucky that Alan hadn't asked what his bad dream was about, because Eric wouldn't have had a way to answer.

_I dreamt I lost you._

_I dreamt you died._

_I dreamt you were taken from me._

_I dreamt I couldn't save you._

_I dreamt it was my fault._

Those were all the things that he could have said, but wouldn't have. It would be like him to have an emotional outburst over a dream, even one as horrific and realistic as that one had been. No, it was good that Alan hadn't asked what he had dreamed about.

"I won't lose you," Eric whispered, so quietly there was almost the question to whether or not he had said it at all. "I swear it." If it took everything he had, Eric wouldn't lose Alan. He refused. His little ray of light would not be extinguished, even if it took Eric's every waking moment, he'd find a way to keep him.

That he promised.


	2. Research

**Author's Note: So, I did end up with a chapter two :D I also am very sure I'll be adding a chapter three because, well, I have ideas. Enjoy everyone, and please review, because I want to know what you all think :)**

Eric sat hunched over a table, frantically scanning through an ancient looking book in the corner of an almost deserted library. Having no resources anywhere else, the senior Shinigami had resorted to returning to the Academy and searching through the extensive library that he had rarely visited as a student. In fact, Eric was quite sure that he had spent more time in this library in the past week than he did in his years of schooling. Oh well, things are funny like that sometimes.

There were thousands of books contained in this one library. Nothing compared to the millions upon millions in the Grim Reaper Library, but the Academy library was certainly nothing to sneeze at. That was why Eric was here, because one of the books out of the thousands contained within these walls had to hold the answer.

As the blond flipped through the enormous, ancient book, he scanned each page carefully, praying for some mention what he was looking for. Even a note that somebody had scribbled in on the sides would be of help. He just needed a clue, a hint, something to tell him what to do. This was one of the library's oldest and most valuable books, so if it was anywhere, it would probably be in here.

"C'mon, dammit, where are you?" Eric growled lowly at the pages, somewhat faded yellow with time. There had to be something...

Wait, was that it?

Eric turned back to the page he had so carelessly turned past, thinking it would hold nothing, as the others had. But no, there it was. There, finally, was what he was looking for.

_The Thorns of Death_

The blond swallowed, thankful that he had finally found something on them, but scared about what he would read. Still, he read on. This was his chance.

_Thorns of Death_

_A rare condition, the Thorns are exclusive to only Grim Reapers. Characteristics of the thorns include random, violent, seizure-like episodes, during with the effected person will lose almost all strength in their body, cough, and often spasm uncontrollably. These usually occur when a Shinigami is under an immense time of stress or is extremely tired. However, they often happen with no warning or explanation._

Eric almost scoffed. This book didn't tell the half of it. The blond had witnessed more than his fare share of attacks, and he knew how bad they could be. Alan described it as a fire ripping through every limb of his body until he thought he may just fall apart while his lungs collapsed. Still, as sugar-coated as this book seemed to be, Eric kept reading.

_Another characteristic of an infected Shinigami would be a series of connected, gnarling scars, usually starting somewhere on the arm or shoulder, that have a very thorn-like appearance. The longer a Reaper is effected by the Thorns, the longer, larger, and more gnarled the scars will become. After so long, the scars will reach the effected Reaper's heart, in which case the next attack will be fatal._

Eric gripped the edges of the table rightly, thinking that it was a miracle the wood hadn't broken yet, what with how old it was. This wasn't what he needed, so he kept going, trying desperately to ignore the last sentences about... the fatal attack. There had to be more; this he already knew. He read on.

_There is no exact cause known for The Thorns of Death, and many mysteries surround it. However, it has been around as long as Grim Reapers themselves, so it is not a new development. It is speculated, and widely believed, that the Thorns are caused when a Shinigami reaps a vengeful soul, and the Cinematic Record enters their body, causing significant damage. A sort of curse form the dead. However, again, as is speculation, and there is no definite way to tell how one contracts the fatal disease. _

_Just as there is no known cause, there is no known cure._

Eric's heart sank.

_No person in record history has ever been cured of the Thorns, or lived past the span of a few years after contracting it._

It sunk even more.

_However, there is an old legend about the Thorns of Death, that states if one was to collect 1000 pure and innocent souls, and exchange them for the infected soul of the Shinigami, the effected Reaper would be spared his or her fate, and completely cured. However, this, again, is a legend, and should not be taken seriously on any account._

Eric stared at the words printed on the paper, awestruck. Had he read it correctly? Why yes, yes he had. A thousand pure souls. A thousand pure and innocent souls. If he could collect them, he could exchange them and save Alan.

_But it's only a fable,_ the rational half of his brain reasoned.

_So what? It's a chance. Maybe it'll save Alan. Maybe this is the one thing I can use to save him._

He read over the paragraph a few more times, committing it to memory. A thousand souls. He had collect a thousand pure and innocent souls; those of women and children. If he could do that before the Thorns launched their final, deadly attack on Alan's body, then he would be saved!

Standing up quickly, Eric closed the book and left it on the table. Someone else would get it and put it back where it belonged; that wasn't his problem. The only thing Eric wanted to concern himself with tonight was getting to Alan's flat in time to eat the leftovers of the meal he had surely made at least an extra helping of. Then, as they did every night, Alan would read a book while Eric worked on paperwork that he had had to bring home since he hadn't finished it at the office. After Eric either finished the work or got bored out of his mind, whichever came first, the two would either retire to bed for sleep, or quite possibly, a love-making session. Alan had said he was really tired after work, so it was more likely they'd just go to bed.

Yes, Eric decided, that was how tonight would go. He would have one more perfect, normal night with his lover, before he became a killer.

A killer... Eric almost laughed. He never thought he'd think that about himself, especially not so calmly. But Eric reasoned that humans die every day, and these thousand would die for a cause, rather than just pass on, living and dying for no reason.

To anyone else, these thoughts would seem crazy, and maybe they were, but Eric was determined. He would save Alan, whatever the cost.

Eric stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stepped out into the chilly night air. Looking around, he began the walk back to his lover's flat, knowing that he had to keep his plan a secret from everyone, including the one he was trying to save. He could find out after the thousand souls had been collected, after he had saved his life. At least then he couldn't stop him, or at least try to, because Eric refused to stop, he refused to give up this hope. He would save him.

His best friend.

His lover.

His light.


	3. Murder

Eric pulled his cigarette from between his lips and blew a puff of smoke. It was a chilly night, and the heat from the cigarette warmed his lungs. The streets of London were quiet, but whispers of those still awake hung in the air. It was a select few; women in their houses, attempting to quiet their children and make them sleep, men who worked late and were hurrying home, drunks getting lost in alleys, and the nightwalkers with their customers.

For a few seconds, Eric thought. There was certainly more than the fair share of prostitutes in London...

He scoffed as he realized what he was thinking. No, he wouldn't insult Alan with the souls of whores. They weren't worth his cause, and surely enough their souls weren't pure. There were plenty of others with worthy, pure souls.

Taking another drag, Eric made his way silently down the dark street, keeping his eye out. It was surprising, even to him, how calm he was about what he was about to do. This was the first night out. The night he would become a murderer.

A dog barked in the distance. Eric made his way down an alley, searching for a woman or child. He had always noticed many of them on the streets of London whenever he had previously taken a walk; women and children poor and starving. Why were they so hard to find now that he was looking for them?

After a while of searching, longer than Eric had anticipated, he eventually found a woman, maybe in her thirties, curled up in the corner of an alley, with only a tattered blanket to keep her warm. Well, what a lucky find.

Approaching her, Eric could see that she was either dead, or sleeping. Well, he hadn't noticed any cinematic records in the area recently, so she wasn't dead. Stopping in front of her, Eric contemplated if he should kill her in her sleep, or at least let her know. It would be quicker to just get it done with, but no, he'd at least grant her one thing.

"Hey, wake up." he shook her gently by her shoulder, trying to be as quiet as possible. "Wake up, just for a minute."

The woman stirred, looking at Eric with a dazed, tired expression. "What?" she blinked a bit. "Who are you?"

M'name's Eric," he answered. "What's yours?"

"Olivia," she answered. "What do you want?"

"You don't look so good," Eric avoided her question. "You sick? In pain at all?"

She looked suspicious. "I suppose... I'm not exactly staying in the Queen's palace, after all..."

Eric chuckled. "No, no you're not."

"What do you want? Or did you just come here to make remarks?" She shifted her tattered blanket.

Eric looked at the old thing. It was moth-eaten and dirty, but it was the only warmth she had.

"...Here." Eric slipped off his jacket, a warm one made just for chilly weather. "I came over here to give you it. Keep you warm, ya know?"

Olivia looked nothing less than shocked. She reached forward carefully and took it. "T-thank you."

Eric shrugged. "N'problem. You need it more than me."

She felt the the fabric under her fingers, then slowly put it on. A smile spread slowly across her face. "Thank you... It's... so warm."

"Don't mention it. Just get back to sleep; I bet you'll have a better day tomorrow." He grinned a little bit. Olivia smiled. "You're very kind... Thank you. It's not everyday someone treats me this kindly."

Again, Eric just nodded. "Get back to sleep. It's late."

She smiled, nodding. He watched the young woman lean her head against the brick wall again, asleep in another five seconds. The smile was still etched in her face as she drifted back into sleep. Her last sleep. A sleep from which Eric would be sure she would never woke from.

It wouldn't hurt, Eric knew that. He didn't want to hurt her, not when she was smiling like that. If he was going to take their lives... may as well make them smile. He wouldn't want to reap a vengeful soul, after all. He could end up like Alan; or worse, make Alan's condition even worse.

Raising his scythe, Eric took a breath. He did this everyday. It should be a piece of cake. Still... it wasn't exactly that simple.

Shaking his head, Eric reminded himself who he was doing this for, why it would be worth it in the longrun.

His hand was steady as he swung, the cinematic record spilling out easily. It didn't even fight, which Eric was surprised to see. It seemed willing. What a nice change to many of the souls he encountered on the job.

When it was all said and done, the alley was quiet again. A dog barked in the distance. Eric looked down at the still body of Olivia, slumped against the brick wall, covered only by the tattered blanket, and his jacket. He thought, then decided he may as well leave her with it. It would be difficult to take it off of her, and anyway, he had more at home. That one was never his favorite; he had just grabbed it on his way out.

Taking another drag on the cigarette that never left his lips, Eric turned and began the walk home. One soul was good enough for the first night. For now, he needed nothing more than to crawl back into bed with Alan, and sleep, as if nothing had happened.


	4. Duty

_**Author's Note: I have one more chapter planned, and I'm pretty sure that'll be the final one. I hope you all enjoy, and please let me know what you think :)**_

_Eric watched the still body at his feet, confused, but knowing all too well who it was._

_Of course, it was Alan. He was naked, facing away from him, body curled up into a ball. _

_He wasn't crying._

_The scars that could only be described as Wickedly Beautiful seemed more pronounced, darker, more abundant. They seemed to be in places they hadn't previously; wrapping many times around his back, down his arms and back up, his neck, creeping to his cheek..._

_He wasn't moving._

_The more Eric looked, the more that he saw blood was dripping from the scars, something that Eric had never seen happen. Panicked, he tried to reach down, but found that his arms refused to move. The blood continued to pour from the wounds, slowly covering Alan's pale skin in red._

_He wasn't breathing._

_Eric tried to scream. He tried to call Alan's name. He tried to reach down and take the tiny, fragile body into his arms as more and more blood poured out from the wounds._

_No, no, this couldn't be happening. _

_The blond watched, horrified, as Alan's body was steadily covered in red, eventually becoming unrecognizable. Then, before his eyes, the red figure that was once Alan shot out long, winding, wicked branches. They circled around Eric, piercing, but not quite making him bleed. However, with each puncture, Eric's mind filled with thoughts of:_

_It's my fault._

_I didn't try hard enough._

_I could have saved him._

_He's dead, he's dead because of me._

"No!"

Eric shot up in bed, feeling the sweat drip down his face. His heart was going faster than he could even describe. His body trembled as he laid his face in his hand, cursing under his breath. Looking over, Alan was thankfully, still blissfully asleep. Eric wasn't really sure how that was possible, considering his little outburst there.

Swallowing, Eric threw his legs over the side of the bed and started rustling through the pile of dirty clothes in a basket in the corner of the room. Quickly, not really caring, he replaced his pajama bottoms with actual pants and slipped on a random shirt, finding a jacket and pulling it over his shoulders.

Going back over to the bedside, he knelt by Alan's side. Gently, he brushed a few strands of chocolate-brown hair from the closed eyes, placing the gentlest kiss possible on his pale forehead. Dear God how Eric loved looking at Alan when he slept. He seemed so peaceful, so not in pain. It was the best way to see him, in Eric's opinion.

Standing once again, said blond picked up a pen and messily scratched a note on a piece of paper, setting it on the pillow he had been using. It simply stated that he hadn't been able to sleep, so he decided to go for a bit of a walk, and would return with plenty of time to sleep. Well, that wasn't totally a lie.

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Eric sighed to himself. "I'm sorry, Alan," he said quietly, grabbing his scythe from leaning against the wall as he left the apartment as quietly as possible. "I know you'd hate me for this... but I have to... I can't just sit by and let you die like this... I can't."

He made his way down the hall, down a set of stairs, and out the front door. The night was cold and silent. Eric repeated the number of souls he had so far collected in his head.

_Eight down, nine-hundred-ninety-two to go... Eight down, nine-hundred-ninety-two to go... _


	5. Love

**Author's Note: And so here's the final chapter :) I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I already have an idea of what I'm going to write next, so stay tuned. Please feel free to tell me what you think in reviews or PMs. Thanks again :D**

Eric collapsed onto the bed, panting, body perfectly fatigued as he turned his head to look at Alan, who was in a similar state. They looked at each other a few moments, then smiled, a light shade of pink gently dusting Alan's cheeks. Even without his glasses, Eric could determine every feature of Alan's face without a problem; the soft curve of his cheeks, his bright, tired smile, and those emerald-green eyes he loved so very much. God were they beautiful. Sure, green-eyes were a feature of all Shinigami, but Alan's were... different somehow.

Without a word, Alan rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around Eric's neck and laying his head on the larger man's shoulder. They both struggled to maintain their breath, lungs still caught up in the passionate kisses and caresses they had shared just moments ago.

Eric wrapped his arm around Alan's back, completing their warm embrace. With his other hand, Eric brought the sheets up to cover them both up halfway, not needing much other warmth than each other.

"Tired?" Eric mumbled sleepily into Alan's ear. The brunette only nodded and nuzzled further into Eric's shoulder. Eric didn't ask any further questions, and just let Alan start to fall asleep against him, kissing the mop of brown hair lazily.

Alan giggled, one of Eric's favorite sounds, and mumbled. "I love you, Eric."

Eric grinned. "I love you, too, sweetheart, now get to sleep. We've got work in the morning." Unfortunately. Oh how Eric would have loved to just stay home all of the next day, sitting around with his lover, talking, relaxing, not worrying about reports or collections for once in a long time...

He indulged in that fantasy for a while, then reminded himself that Alan would tell him he was being lazy if he even suggested it, so he pushed it aside. Sometimes Eric was able to convince the small brunette to take the day off with him, but more often than not, he was shot down.

Alan's breathing soon became shallow and regular, signaling that he was in the clutches of sleep. Smiling lazily, Eric gazed over his sleeping lover, observing the curves of his lean back and waist, the contours of his slender arms as they held around his neck. Eric loved everything about Alan's body; the soft skin, slight muscles, and gentle curves, he loved everything! Everything, except for one thing; the black, gnarled scars that made their way around every part of the younger man's body.

But now wasn't the time to focus on that, not while Alan was wrapped safely in his arms, warm and comfortable. No, for now, all Eric wanted to focus on was how nice it felt to have Alan with him, their bodies warming each other under the sheets.

Suddenly curious, Eric took a quick glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, and could see through his blurred vision that it was at least one in the morning; about an hour past when the two of them normally would sleep. _Well,_ Eric thought with a grin, _at least we've got a good reason._

Alan suddenly shifted in his sleep, moving himself to lay more on Eric's chest, his face kept in the older man's neck. Eric smiled gently, taking the moment to kiss the top of Alan's head repeatedly, inhaling his scent.

"God, I love you so much, Alan," Eric murmured. "You don't even know."

_I'd kill for you,_ Eric thought, too scared to say it out loud in case Alan somehow heard him._ Actually, I am killing for you. And I won't stop. Fifteen down, nine-hundred-eighty-five to go. I love you, Alan, and if that means committing a thousand sins to save you, then so be it._

He kissed Alan's head one last time, finally closing his eyes to sleep.

_You're mine, Alan, and I'm not letting you go, period. Maybe you'll hate me when you find out, but at least you'll be alive. That's all that matters to me._

And, finally, Eric managed to lull himself to sleep, arm wrapped around his younger lover, perfectly content. Tonight, there was no need for killing. He was content with how many souls he had so far, and could save the rest for another night.

_I love you, Alan, _Eric said once again in his head, _I'll always love you. I'll kill for you._

_I'd die for you._


End file.
